On Our Way To Crazy

I read a lot when I was a kid. Babysitter’s Club, Sleepover Friends, Sweet Valley High, the Wayside School books. But somehow I missed the Anne of Green Gables series. I don’t know how, but I did. And I am kind of mad at everyone I knew in the 80’s for not giving it to me.

I’ve had a copy on my shelf for a while that I picked up at the library sale, an I finally read it a couple of weeks ago. Then I immediately ordered a box set of the first three books on Amazon. I finished those in about five seconds and ordered the rest of them. They are so wonderful. I wish so much that I had known Anne as a child.

I got to spend a few days last week at a youth pastor workshop in Georgia. It was totally free and totally last minute, and it was awesome. Three days at a beautiful retreat center with my own huge room, fancy bathroom, and hours in the evenings with no technology but lots of books. I sat with 40 other people (all guys, of course) who do the same thing I do every day and we talked programming, lesson writing, parent struggles and long-term planning. We ate delicious food and did not judge each other for taking seconds on the apple pie. It was a great, much much needed break and I am so thankful I got to go.

A couple of weeks ago I found myself on a ‘thank you’ kick. I sent notes to people who have gone out of their way for me or the kids recently, I emailed authors of books that touched me, I wrote to a guy who has been really helpful to Aaron lately. Responses have started to trickle in, and it totally makes my day every time. It’s amazing what paying a little attention will do for you.

I don’t want to go to Bonnaroo. I don’t. I know I would be miserable. But it’s hard to see that when I’m looking at a lineup that includes: The Avett Brothers, The Dead Weather, Conan (!), Weezer, Phoenix, LCD Soundsystem, Aziz Ansari, Brandi Carlile, The Punch Brothers, Miranda Lambert, OK Go and Kings of Leon. Seriously, y’all. SERIOUSLY.

Yesterday we took our kids to work on a neighborhood revitalization project near where a lot of them live. It was a really run down part of town that most of them didn’t even know existed. They got to meet the people who live there and do some construction work on a house for a family who is crammed into a one-bedroom apartment right now. They painted, scrubbed, sawed, crawled under the basement, sheetrocked and caulked. I was so impressed by them, as usual.

The other day I was talking to a group of people and I mentioned that, when I eat M&Ms or Skittles, I pour the whole bag out and separate them into colors. THEY FREAKED OUT. Is that really so weird? The separating part? I hadn’t even gotten to the part where I count them and make sure I have the same amount of each color, then eat the extras, then arrange them into some kind of aesthetically-pleasing pattern. I decided to spare them those details for fear they would never speak to me again.

I totally forgot to blog about this! Last month we got to go see Jennifer Knapp open for Todd Snider. JENNIFER KNAPP. TODD SNIDER. Are you familiar with Todd Snider? I had forgotten how awesome he is. It was a great show… he played for a couple of hours and I could have easily listened for a couple more. It was awesome.

I am, as a general rule, comfortable with my age. I like being twenty-nine. I touched on some of this on my birthday… I wasn’t great at my young twenties. I mean, I loved them, but I didn’t do them quite right. I’m not a big party-er. I never lived in a tiny apartment with four other people in a big city (although I would have liked that, I think). I got married at twenty-one. I don’t know who let me get away with that, but it happened.

I feel like my late twenties have suited me a bit better. I feel more settled into my life, more settled into who I am. I think the biggest change is how non-competitive I feel these days. In college and for quite a while after, I was CONSTANTLY comparing myself to everyone around me. I wanted to be the most successful, or the most happily married, or the one with the cutest house, or the one with the best clothes. This was particularly true with my girlfriends from high school – all my life, we had competed for starting spots on sports teams and for boyfriends and for senior superlatives. Even though we were adults, more or less, that competitiveness didn’t go away. I wanted to WIN.

I am truly thankful to be (mostly) past that stage of my life. I still compare myself, for sure, and am certainly self-conscious around people I perceive to be cooler or more interesting or funnier than I am. But on the whole, I’m starting to get it together. I can love another girl’s quirky style and funky hair without thinking I need to have it myself. I have flat hair and wear jeans every day. It’s okay.

Here’s the catch, though. It’s one thing to see yourself as a little past that stage of your life and feel okay about it. It’s a whole nother deal when someone younger than you confirms it. Like when, say, a ‘young adults’ group is put together at church and you are not included. Because YOU ARE NOT A YOUNG ADULT. Ouch.

I’m not gonna lie, you guys, this development gave me a bit of a complex. One side of my brain was calm and collected, saying, “You don’t want to be in that group. You are not a part of the same world they live in. They don’t even know who sang ‘Hangin Tough’. Your friends are in their thirties. You like them better. It’s all fine.” But the other side was freaking the hell out. Not a part of the young adults group? What? I’m hip! I’m cool! I’ve got the 411! When did this shift happen? When did I change demographics? Where is my walker?

It’s been a week or so since I turned old in the eyes of others, and I have come to terms with it. I am happy with my place in life. I much prefer wine in an interesting restaurant to shots in a loud bar. I’m okay with staying in for New Year’s. I like board games A LOT. I’m seriously considering moving to the suburbs. I play Scrabble online with my grandpa. It works for me.

But, man, that whole ordeal was a shock to my system. It’s a lot easier to be okay with who you are when who you are isn’t being confirmed by a bunch of kids who don’t want to hang out with you because you’re OLD.

Is anyone out there a dream interpreter?

Lately I have been having dreams where normal stuff from my life is taking place, no big deal, except it’s all happening at my parents’ house. Staff meetings, youth group, dinner parties with friends… all going down in my mom and dad’s living room.

It’s throwing me for two reasons. One, I don’t think my parents are there, so it’s not like I just relocated my entire life to be closer to them. And two, the things that happen in my dreams aren’t real, but they seem super real. I’m not reenacting things that have already happened, but the things that are happening are totally normal things that would happen in my every day life. I’m having necessary work-related conversations with people at my mom’s dining room table in my dreams. Then, when I wake up, I can’t remember what is real and what isn’t. This afternoon someone emailed me a question that I SWEAR we have already discussed. And we did. In Texas.

This is a problem. I already spend an inordinate amount of time each morning trying to remember what day it is. (Does anyone else do that? Seriously, every morning I have to think about the day before and figure out what I’m supposed to do that day. Side effect of not having the same schedule every day, I guess.) But now I also have to think through what is real and what isn’t? That’s a long process. I may just stop getting out of bed, just to be safe.

We watch Saturday Night Live approximately… never. I am up on it, generally, and I’ll try to catch parts of it if I care about the host of the band, but I’ve never really enjoyed it enough to sit and watch whole episodes.

Last night, though, we found ourselves hanging out at home, so we turned it on. And it was fine. Nothing amazing. (Although Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s opening monologue/song was pretty impressive.) It was just on as background noise, really, while we messed around getting ready for Sunday morning.

But then. The digital short came on.

I’m sure that this sketch isn’t really that funny. It’s too long and it gets obnoxious and gross toward the end. Please know that I know those things. But also, please know that I laughed so hard when Kenan Thompson came on screen that I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

I think you’ll understand why.

THREE THINGS THAT HAPPENED WHILE I WAS WATCHING TV THIS AFTERNOON WHILE UPDATING STUDENT INFORMATION AND EATING MY FORTIETH CLEMENTINE OF THE DAY

1. For ages, I’ve had this scene in my head where and old lady goes to a house and walks quickly through all the rooms while the family follows her around hoping she will approve. I have never figured out what it was from. I thought it was some kind of Jane Austen-y big old house and ball gowns kind of scenario, but I just couldn’t place it.

But then! Today! I caught the last 15 minutes of the episode of Gilmore Girls where Rory goes to the carnival with Jess and they end up hanging out with Dean and his annoying little sister. Right before she leaves for the carnival? Her great-grandmother comes over to inspect her and Lorelai’s house. She walks quickly through all the rooms and they follow her around hoping she will approve. THANK YOU BABY JESUS AND THE GODS OF DAYTIME TELEVISION.

2. During the course of one episode of 90210 – which, yes, I am still watching, and yes, it is the worst show ever produced and put on for people to put in their brains – the following things happened to the characters: accusation of statutory rape, admission of murder and incest, a hook up in a freezer in an abandoned house, the aiding and abetting of a kidnapper, a drunk hit-and-run accident and, oh yeah, the mysterious return of Dylan McKay. It was very intense.

3. I lowered myself to the level of watching an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. A few minutes in, I realized something horrifying – I HAVE ALREADY SEEN THIS EPISODE.

When I was in high school, I was a pretty big Dave Matthews fan. Me and every other teenager in the 90’s. I liked them for a lot of reasons, but one thing in particular really did it for me – the back up singers. I wanted to be one. Bad.

That’s right, people. My dream in high school was to be a black back up singer. For Dave Matthews. A long skirt wearing, turban sporting, dreadlocked flowy armed back up singer. I thought it was my calling.

But that was a long time ago. The dream has died. I’ve moved on to bigger, less turbany things. My back up singer aspirations were put on the back burner.

Until last weekend. Because last weekend? I saw TobyMac for the first time. Now I am not a huge Mac fan… I loved me some dcTalk back in the day, but I haven’t followed them onto their new (variably successful) frontiers. Thanks to Aaron’s job stuff, we got to go backstage at the show and sneak out to the front few rows and scavage some seats. We were right up front for Family Force 5 (awesome as usual) and Relient K (meh), and decided to stick around for a few songs of Toby before we headed home.

I wasn’t that excited about it, really. But Toby knows what he’s doing. That is one entertaining show. And the best part? The back up singers. He has three, two guys and a girl, and they do all kinds of dancing and jumping around and singing like crazy.

I want to be that girl.

My long dormant dreams came flooding back. All of a sudden I didn’t want to be a youth worker anymore. I wanted to wear tall puffy boots and a fuzzy hat and a scarf and vest and dreads and stomp and jump around the stage.

The dream is back. Now I just need to find my band.

REASONS WHY I’M LAME, PART ONE MILLION

1. Tuesday night is my favorite TV night. Why? Let’s see… Greek comes on ABC Family, The Rachel Zoe Project comes on Bravo, and the new 90210 comes on whatever network it comes on. I thought I hated the new 90210, and I still kind of do, but I can’t let go yet. And I freaking LOVE Greek, y’all. If I only got to watch one show I might pick that one.

2. Yesterday I teared up during the end of Overboard. OVERBOARD.

3. I got my feelings hurt today because the guy making my greek salad didn’t want to have a conversation with me about tzatziki sauce. I should really get my impulse to start random conversations with strangers in check.

4. I am really excited about a seminar at my upcoming youth conference titled “I Am Woman – How Do I Roar?” That is the worst title ever but I am totally pumped to go.

5. I’ve been singing the Cookie Time song from Troop Beverly Hills in my head all afternoon. “Gather ’round you friends of mine, we’re Wilderness girls and it’s cookie time…”

6. I could make lists of lame things about me all day every day and never run out of things to say.

I just cried my eyes out during an episode of Full House.

I am really excited about the striped thermal leggings I just bought.

Milano cookies are the highlight of my day.

I have spent most of the morning looking at celebrity houses on Virtual Globetrotting.

Last night I convinced myself someone had broken in. So I got up my courage and walked out into the hall turning on lights and weilding a GUITAR. I am so intimidating.

I really really like that “Shake It” song by Metro Station. Do you know who is in Metro Station? Miley Cyrus’ brother. Awesome.

I am seriously considering adding fascinators to my wardrobe. What do you think? Do I need some feathers in my life?

I am really torn about whether or not I should continue to tivo The Hills.

I know, I know. You’ve been sitting there at your desk all day, pretending to work. You’ve got a spreadsheet minimized so you can pull it up when your boss walks by so she can’t see what you’re really doing. But! No worries! You can stop pouring over the internet looking for the perfect birthday gift for me. I am here to tell you what to buy.

These are the things that would make me oh so very happy on Sunday. I am, of course, working within the confines of your unlimited Brandi budget.

I think this dress would be perfect for my upcoming high school reunion, don’t you? Maybe with these shoes?

Perfect. Thanks. I will send you a thank you text with the new phone I know you are dying to buy for me. I’m sure you are tired of my annoying whining about how my current phone freezes and dies all the time. This is really a gift for both of us, you know?

What’s that? You’d prefer to get something for the house? No problem. How about something of the handmade variety? Say, from etsy?

I have had this print in my favorites for ages:

This one would look great on my bookshelf.

I am also, in case you didn’t know, a big fan of jewelry. You know, like these perfect earrings to wear with jeans and a black tank top:

Or this super cute necklace:

So there you go! I have solved your dilemma. I know it’s hard to shop for someone as important to you as I am, but I have no shame in telling you what to get.

Can we please take a minute to talk about how lame I am?

I just spent three hours watching Fox. Two episodes of Friends, American Idol and Don’t Forget the Lyrics. I am pathetic.

I cannot believe I am into American Idol this season. I haven’t watched it at all since the first (and most awesome) Kelly Clarkson season. I hate this show. I hate the judges, I hate the contestants, I hate the songs and the band and Ryan Seacrest. And yet, I cannot stop watching. I picked it up randomly a few weeks ago when Aaron wasn’t home and they were auditioning in Dallas. I was flipping by, saw Dallas, and stopped because I am convinced that one day I am going to see someone I know on a reality show.

(Sidenote: I don’t know know Jason Yeager, but our paths crossed a couple of times in high school so that is kind of random. Except he wasn’t actually on the Dallas show as best as I can remember. When the guys sang on Tuesday I spent his whole (not so good) song doing the, “I… think I know that guy. Who is that? Why do I know him? Seriously. I know him. I think he was in some kind of show choir in college. No… earlier. I don’t think I really know him. But I kind of do. Who is that?” dance in my head before I finally figured it out.)

(Do you like how my sidenote is longer than my actual paragraph?)

Anyway, I hate all of the guys except the really enthusiastic kid and the hot old guy with the accent, and all of the girls except the one with the curly hair who plays the guitar, especially now because when I looked up that link it said she loves Bonnie Raitt. I love Bonnie Raitt! Clearly we will now be BFFs.

So I’m watching American Idol. Sad. But tonight I also watched Don’t Forget the Lyrics, which I secretly love but never watch because I don’t know when it comes on. (Hint: after American Idol.) I always tell Aaron I would rule at that show. But I am a huge lier because while I do have a ridiculous amount of song lyrics in my head, I rarely know the songs on the show. If they could feature a little more Counting Crows or Ben Folds, I would own them.

I probably would have watched the show regardless, but I knew I had to when, on the previews they showed during American Idol, they told me that BOYZ II MEN was going to be on there. Boyz II Men! I love them so much. At the end of the show they sang “End of the Road”, and I’m not gonna lie to y’all, I got a little emotional as I was singing along in the living room with Miles. You know that song played at your eighth-grade graduation, or as the last song at your prom, or in your bedroom when you and your sister sang into your hairbrushes. That’s some good stuff.

It’s a sad state of affairs when Aaron goes out of town and the best I can do for myself is wine, tomato soup, and cheesy reality shows. I would write more, but America’s Best Dance Crew is about to come on and I have to get ready.

(Just kidding.)

(No I’m not.)